Alan L. Winters

I, JERICHO (PTSD)

Awarded: November 3, 2006Strong once,
My walls built high
Of mortar and stone.
Impenetrable to none but friends;
A fortress from earth to sky:
I, Jericho.
From a distance
The sound of trumpets
Echoing through hill and valley,
Rumbling through forest
Shaking leaves like autumn winds,
Shaking leaves like birds of flight.
And I, Jericho,
I hear the sound
Of crumbling mortar
And shifting stone;
Piece by piece,
Mortar and stone, stone and mortar.
I, Jericho
Feel my sanctum falling free
Exposing my humanity.
Joshua, put down your horn,
The horn that crumbles walls
And home and soul.
Let me now rebuild
And repair my walls that still remain
And I, again, am Jericho.